


Declivity

by amysfall



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dark Character, F/M, tw: murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 12:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1225666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amysfall/pseuds/amysfall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s funny how one spontaneous thought at one moment in time can turn out to be such incredible truth that it destroys the rest of one’s life.  </p><p>And in affairs of the heart, this was especially relevant and particularly painful.</p><p>So, naturally, one would always be questioning another’s honesty and actions, which is what led her to her desperate descent into insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declivity

When Rory came home from work, Amy noticed a faint stain of very pink lipstick on his cheek. _That’s not mine,_ she thought, but shook it off. It didn’t matter, for it had already faded away.

 

\---

 

Amy was awoken at one in the morning by the buzzing and singing of a phone. She heard Rory whisper to a someone on the other end, “Not now!”

 

Pondering it, she fell asleep, and couldn’t remember it quite clearly once she woke up.

 

\---

 

Amy went to fetch her keys and picked up Rory’s as well. She noticed something wrong with them.

 

“Who’s key is that?” she asked him as she handed them over.

 

“Oh! Um, nothing, just for a room at work.”

 

“All right,” Amy replied, sticking the situation in the back of her mind.

 

\---

 

“Ouch, goddammit!” Rory swore as the knife slipped off the pear he was attempting to cut and skimmed its way across his skin. Amy watched as the blood slowly ran out of his finger and onto the cutting board, barely moving a muscle.

 

“Well, can you get me a bandaid?” Rory asked her with quite a bit of force.

 

Amy sighed. “Sure.”

 

As she made her way upstairs, she made a mental note to get the knives sharpened.

 

\---

 

“Do we have any asprin?” Rory asked. “I have a bit of a headache.”

 

“Yeah, go check.”

 

Rory made his way over to the medicine drawer. He rummaged through the medicines, which seemed to have multiplied over the last few weeks, but stopped at a small, red bottle.

 

“Have we got rodents?” he asked, frowning.

 

Amy replied coolly, “No; I just thought I heard them, so I bought it as a precaution.”

 

“All right.”

 

Amy watched passively as Rory took one asprin over the dosage.

 

\---

 

Rory came home from work to find Amy curled up on the couch, reading a Steven King book.

 

“You’ve been quiet lately,” he stated.

 

“You’ve been gone a lot lately,” Amy retorted. “You’re an hour late.”

 

“Yeah, well, work stuff.”

 

“Hmm.” Amy didn’t look up from her book.

 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked, coming over to Amy. He leaned over the back of the couch and wrapped his arms around her.

 

Amy felt him kiss her cheek. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Just a bit tired. Earlier deadlines at work.”

 

“All right,” he said, but let go of her abruptly as his phone rang.

 

She felt like she had heard the ringtone somewhere before. It was that night, the one where Rory had gotten home so late. That tune had woken her up.

 

“I have to get this; it’s work, sorry,” Rory said quickly.

 

Amy watched as he sauntered off, and she smiled cunningly into her book as he winced, grabbed his side, and limped forward.

 

\---

 

“I’ve made you dinner,” Amy announced as Rory barged through the front door. “You okay?” she asked him.

 

“Extremely fed up and tired,” he said. He had lipstick on his cheek. Faded, not-her lipstick.

 

“It’s out back. I figured I’d make things fancy tonight.” Amy gestured towards the open patio door.

 

“Wow, thanks, Amy.”

 

The patio had lights stringing from tree to tree, and a small table was covered in a tablecloth and set for three, with candles placed decoratively around the dinnerware.

 

Amy sat Rory down and handed him his daily glass of wine. “The meat’s nearly done. It’ll be a moment.”

 

“So, who’s the guest?” Rory asked, taking a sip from his wine glass.

 

“Your girlfriend.”

 

Rory’s blood went cold. Or perhaps it was the wine.

 

“My what?”

 

“The girl you’ve been seeing. And don’t lie to me. That’s not my lipstick that you keep bringing home on your cheek.”

 

“Amy, I can explain—“

 

“The meat’s done,” Amy announced, as a small _ding_ went off in the kitchen.

 

Rory followed Amy into the house. “Honestly, I wasn’t—“

 

“Shut up! You wanted kids, so you got someone to give you kids. I knew I shouldn’t have taken you back. It was always going to come to this, wasn’t it, Rory?”

 

“Amy—“ Rory started, but he collapsed, holding on for dear life to the kitchen counter.

 

“Do I know a little bit too much about your personal life? Or was that just _too much_ arsenic?” Amy smiled sweetly.

 

Rory let go of the counter and fell down, knocking a small, red bottle off the counter. It was empty.

 

Amy grabbed the knife from the meat and walked over to her husband, who was falling into unconsciousness.

 

“I guess I’m just not worth the wait, yeah, Centurion?”

 

“Amy—“ he whispered. “Don’t—“

 

“Shh,” Amy replied, tracing his lips with the knife. It began to cut the skin, blood pouring out of the outline of his mouth. “It’s time to stop waiting.”

 

She pressed a bloody kiss to his lips as Rory faded away; but it was no real loss, as he had left her a long time ago.


End file.
